day, and he sprang to his feet.
'Into the river. Get the horses into the river, ' he roared above the
murderous crackle, the shrill fluting whine of ricochets and the
continuous slapping of bullets into earth and flesh.
'Into the river. Get into the river!' He ran down the column shouting
at the men who were struggling to clear their rifles from the scabbards
of plunging, rearing horses. The Boer fire flogged into them, dropping
men and horses screaming in the grass.
Loose horses scattered along the valley, reins trailing and empty
stirrups bounding against their flanks.
'Leave them! Let them go! Get into the river!' TWo of the mules were
down, kicking, wounded in the traces of the scotch cart Sean tore the
tarpaulin loose and lifted out one of the Maxims. A bullet splintered
the woodwork under his hands.
'You!' he shouted at one of his sailors. 'Grab this!' He passed the
gun to him and the man ran with it cradled in his arms and jumped over
the river bank. With a case of ammunition under each arm Sean followed
him. It seemed as though he ran waist, deep in water, each pace
dragging with painful deliberation and his fear came strongly upon him.
A bullet flipped his hat forward over his eyes, the ammunition cases
weighted him down, and he blundered panic, stricken towards the river.
The earth was gone abruptly from under his feet and he fell, dropping
free until, with a shock that jarred his spine, he struck and toppled
forward face, down into the icy water.
Immediately he scrambled up and, still clutching the Maxim ammunition,
floundered to the steep bank. Above him the Boer fire whipped and
sang, but the bed of the river was crowded with his men, and others
still fell and jumped from the bank to add to the congestion.
Panting and streaming water from his clothing Sean leaned against the
bank while he gathered himself. The stream of survivors into the
river, bed dwindled and stopped. The Boer fire also stuttered out and
a comparative quiet fell over the field, spoiled only by the groaning
and cursing of the wounded.
Sean's first coherent thought was for Saul. He found him holding two
pack, mules under the bank with Nonga and Mbejane beside him holding
another pair. He sent Saul to take command at the far end of the
line.
'Sergeant, Major!' Sean shouted, and with relief heard Eccles's reply
from close at hand.
'Here, sir.'
'Spread them out along the bank. Get them to cut firing platforms. '
' Very good, sir, ' and immediately he began, ' Here you lot, you heard
the Major! Up off your backsides!'
Within ten minutes there were two hundred rifles lining the bank and
the Maxim was sited and manned behind a scharnz of' stone and earth.
Those men who had lost their weapons were tending the wounded.
This pitiful little group were gathered in the middle of the line, they
were propped against the bank, sitting waist, deep in slush and their
blood stained the water pinky, brown.
Sean climbed up on to one of the firing platforms beside Eccles and
